


the fire red of us

by orphan_account



Series: it's beautiful, the glow on your skin; you're beautiful [2]
Category: GOT7
Genre: Alternate Universe - Soulmates, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-02-04
Updated: 2015-02-04
Packaged: 2018-03-10 12:02:47
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,752
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3289643
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/orphan_account/pseuds/orphan_account
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Sometimes Mark thinks about the image of his soulmate he had conjured in his head when he was a child; Mark thinks his actual soulmate is much better.</p>
            </blockquote>





	the fire red of us

When Mark was younger, he'd always had an image in his head of how his soulmate would be like. The ridiculous distance that had been between them had led him to conjure up beautiful, perfect scenarios of how his soulmate would come up to him with a soft, shy smile, face hidden behind her bangs as she gently tugged on his hand and showed her the  _Mark Tuan_  that would be inked on her wrist.

 

He couldn't have been more wrong. 

 

For once, Jackson Wang Jia Er is most definitely  _not_  a girl. Of course, he hadn't been against that - when he'd found Jackson, he had been but 19 years old, and while he was only 2 years older now, he'd matured a lot in those 2 years. His parents had had soulmates of the opposite gender, as had his sisters Tammy and Grace - Joey had yet to find his, even till now, but they all held hope for the youngest child - so it made sense that Mark would think his soulmate would be a girl, too. 

 

Sure, Jackson had the ability to pout and look extremely adorable in a way that should be illegal, as far as Mark was concerned, but he was, other than that, definitely  _male_. Him pressing Mark down onto the bed and showing him just how good he was in said bed was more than enough proof for Mark, if the sounds that he had made that night had been anything to go by.

 

(Mark had returned the favour, a month later, pressing Jackson down until he was positively  _begging_ , but that was a story for another time.)

 

For another, Jackson was not, in anyway, shy. If you didn't count the way that he had run away from Song Gayeon like a girl running from her crush - which Mark didn't; It was still a sore point. Jackson hadn't run away from  _him_  like that, what made Song Gayeon so special? And  _no_ , Mark wasn't  _jealous_  of her. Of course not. - then Jackson was one of the least shy people you'd ever meet in your life. 

 

And finally, well, Jackson was anything but soft. Sure, it wasn't exactly what Mark had meant, but it didn't matter. Jackson was loud. So very loud that Mark sometimes had to cup his hand over his mouth so that he would stop talking for once. It always made Jackson pout - why wasn't it illegal again? - but Mark would always give a long suffering sigh, half in relief that Jackson was quiet and half in exasperation - then kiss Jackson to appease him.

 

While he was brooding over the differences between Jackson and what had been his imagination of a soulmate, Mark had failed to realize Jackson walking into the room, standing in the doorway and watching the other with adoration in his eyes and a smile on his face. There was nothing that Jackson liked more than just watching Mark, especially when the other was deep in thought, asleep, or begging underneath him while he squirmed in pleasure--

 

Calm yourself, Jackson Wang.

 

He settled himself at the foot of Mark's - well, technically, their, since they'd long joined their 2 single mattresses into 1 larger one - bed, crawling over his lover when Mark shifted so that he could look at him. He let himself fall to the side, cheekily tangling his legs with Mark's. 

 

"You seemed pretty deep in thought," Jackson commented, leaning forward to kiss Mark lightly. "What were you thinking about?"

 

Mark pressed back against his lover, one hand moving around to grab a handful of Jackson's hair at the nape of his neck and tugging, just enough that it made Jackson hiss in pleasure, but not enough to hurt him. The kiss, however, remained sweet, a mere brushing of lips, petal soft against petal soft. 

 

"My soulmate," He answered, vaguely. Jackson made a pleased noise in the back of his throat and ran his tongue along the seam of Mark's mouth, asking for entrance, for permission. Mark smiled, letting him in, moaning lowly when Jackson's tongue came flicking around his, licking playfully. "How I imagined her to be."

 

It made Jackson pull back immediately, a rare frown on his face. There was a glint of insecurity in his eyes, and Mark held in his laughter, threatening to burst out of him. Jackson looked so confused, so worried, even as his left wrist jerked almost reflexively, as though burnt by Mark's name that was inked there. "Her?"

 

Mark nodded, lowering his eyelids, all the while trying not to smile. "My parents found each other, after all, and you know how happy my sisters are with their partners. I guess it never occurred to me that my soulmate would be male. I had a very specific image of her, and how perfect she would be. How she would act, and how she'd smile when I came home."

 

Jackson's face hardened, and Mark knew then that he should probably tell Jackson that he didn't  _care_  that Jackson wasn't the perfect girl he'd conjured up his head, that he'd much rather have Jackson than any girl that he could possible have thought of. Jackson started to pull back, but Mark wrapped an arm around his waist, keeping him next to him, keeping him on the bed. Mark laughed, softly, eyes warm and loving. "Where do you think you're going?"

 

"You seem to want to be alone," Jackson mumbled out, insecure. He loved Mark, loved him more than anyone else, and he couldn't imagine life without his soulmate. Why was Mark thinking of having someone else when he had Jackson? Sure, Jackson knew that he was a little - okay, a lot - overbearing sometimes, but he'd always thought that Mark liked that part about him, the happy-go-lucky Jackson that threw himself a hundred percent into everything he did. That Mark had been thinking about his soulmate as someone else, that Mark was thinking about someone else by his side rather than Jackson  _hurt_ , even if it was not something that Jackson was ready to admit.

 

Mark grinned, tightening his hold on Jackson's waist, the hand that had been behind his neck now cupping his cheek and making Jackson look at him. The moment Jackson looked at Mark, he relaxed slightly. Mark closed his eyes, leaning forward to kiss Jackson again, letting his mind empty and then fill with thoughts of the man in bed with him, nothing and no one else. 

 

The first time he had met Jackson, the first time they had held hands, their first kiss, the first time they shared a drink, a meal, when Mark had first cooked for Jackson and vice versa, the bracelets they now wore on their right wrists, the matching snapbacks, the silly Hello Kitty ring that they shared, the way Jackson smelled after he showered, the way Jackson felt above him, strong and dominant, the way Jackson felt beneath him, pliant and willing, the way Jackson smiled, the way Jackson laughed like a hyena, but was so utterly endearing Mark couldn't help but fall, the way that Jackson said his name, Jackson, Jackson,  _Jackson_.

 

The colour on their inner wrists flared ever brighter, swirls and patterns spiraling up their arms, curling around their forearms and then their biceps, up to their shoulders. It hurt, slightly, but it was a good pain, almost like an ache, as the fire red that bound them together inked and tattooed itself into their body. It would fade in a few hours, they knew - the first time they had seen the phenomena was after they'd first kissed, but that had only happened up to their elbow - but it would stay like that until then, reminding them of how much they loved and was loved in return. 

 

They parted, slowly, unwilling to let the other go. Mark lifted a hand to Jackson's face and caressed his cheek softly, leaning their foreheads together. Jackson chuckled, nuzzling his nose against Mark's in an eskimo kiss, sighing into the warmth of Mark's hand against his skin. He was here, Mark was  _here_ , with him, and he was all his. 

 

  
_His_. No one else's.

 

The  _Jackson Wang_  on his inner wrist said as much, but Jackson would never let Mark go. Not unless Mark wanted him to, of course, but with the way Mark was smiling at him now, with the way Mark was staring at him now, Jackson hoped that that day would never come. That the day Mark would tire of him would never arrive, because he couldn't think of a life without the older idol in it.

 

His hand made its way down to Mark's waist, peeling the shirt up. "You made me forget my initial motive for coming in here," Jackson murmured against his lover's lips. He separates from Mark, pressing a quick kiss to his cheek in apology, before moving down to lift the shirt up and brushing a gentle hand against the bruises around Mark's waist. "Does it still hurt?"

 

Mark shook his head, propping it up on one palm as he watched Jackson kiss the bruises, a dark ring around his waist. "It hurt for a while after the show, but I'm fine now. They'll be there for a while, but it doesn't hurt anymore."

 

Jackson sighed, warm hands wrapping around Mark's slim waist and kissing the bruises one last time before bringing himself up to kiss Mark again, breath calm and familiar. Mark laid his head in the crook of Jackson's neck, nuzzling in. There was something about Jackson that always made Mark want to cuddle into him, and he wasn't very big on cuddling in the first place. It was strange, how Jackson could get Mark to step out of his boundaries, be it something as simple as appreciating a warm body next to his, or the more far-fetched, such as eating congealed pork blood, which had Mark gagging into the sidewalk.

 

"Jackson?"

 

"Mm?"

 

There was a lot of shifting, and Mark managed to get himself half onto Jackson and half on the mattress, his leg thrown over his lover's body. With the arm that was still decorated with the fiery red, he brushed Jackson's hair out of his eyes, grinning down at him in a way that showed off his sharp canines. "I forgot to tell you, but my parents want to meet you. They're flying over in 3 days."

 

Jackson paled. 

 

(The mischievous glint in Mark's eyes told Jackson that Mark hadn't forgotten in the first place.)

 

 


End file.
